


Falling doesn't take much Resilience

by Ortholeine



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake Whump, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortholeine/pseuds/Ortholeine
Summary: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was smart. Being smart had gotten him in a lot of trouble, and--for the most part--got him back out of trouble. But not this time. His plan to protect Bruce's legacy from Ra's al Ghul may have been successful, but he didn't think he would need a plan to protect himself from the scrutiny of his friends and family. He didn't think he would need a plan to avoid their very targeted questions.He definitely didn't think he would need a plan to avoid the family-mandated therapy Bruce insisted on after returning to the right timeline.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 92





	Falling doesn't take much Resilience

Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne was smart. He knew he was smart. It had taken years for him to realize that the racing thoughts and quick, and often correct, conclusions were not entirely normal. One of the most consistent issues he had dealt with growing up (not that he was an adult by any means, and thus not done growing up, but he was now officially an emancipated minor, and that had to mean something) was people doubting him and his intelligence solely due to his age and/or physical stature. 

Bruce Wayne was one of the few people who didn’t doubt or question him, not really. Standing on a rooftop and staring at Dick Grayson in the Bat-suit brought back familiar feelings, ones he hadn’t had while looking at a Batman for a long time. Feelings of desperation, hope, a little bit of trust, and just the tiniest bit of awe. So when Dick said “Of course” to Tim’s “Batman, trust me,” a small part of Tim’s soul flew out of the pit it had been stuck in for months now.

His mind continued racing even as he swung off the rooftop, knowing that now was not the time to second-guess anything or anyone, even himself.

* * *

Tim wished he could accurately describe the way he felt staring at the tall man in the green cloak. Sure, there was the combined heat of anger and triumph and that pesky desperation again, settling low in his chest, but there was also the newer-and-yet-resigned bile in his throat. He shoved down any and all thoughts and images that tried to rise to the surface at the sight of the sharp shoulders and pointed collar, mostly successful. Now was not the time to let previous...compromises distract him. This moment was about to make it all worth it. At least, Tim hoped so.

The man’s frustration made Tim want to grin, but that was something Robin would do, not Red Robin. So he restrained himself and moved forward, quietly, quickly. 

“Hello Ra’s,” he said, hoping there wasn’t too much satisfaction in his voice as he dropped the last ninja to the ground. “Your game is over. Because I’m ending it.”

The man before him tightened his hold on the walkie talkie, eyes narrowing at Tim.

“I’m impressed, Timothy,” Ra’s started, voice low and even. 

“You found me. But was it worth it?” Tim stood up straight and began walking forward. He knew that he wasn’t in any immediate danger yet, and even as the head of the League of Assassins continued speaking, he moved within striking distance.

“Was coming here to foolishly confront me worth sacrificing the lives of all those your mentor held dear? Even if the more accomplished targets survive, the others will die. Was it worth the compromise?”

At that word-- _ compromise _ \--Tim stiffened. He let out the breath he had been holding and replied, saying, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m done compromising.”

He lifted his own walkie talkie up to his mouth in a tight grip, unable to stop the small grin creeping onto his face.

Clear as day, Kon’s voice came through. “Hey Ra’s, how’s it going? Alfred Pennyworth is fine, by the way. Nice try.”

Bart’s voice followed. “Selina Kyle is super-fine! This might be the best day of my life.”

The sharp tone of Manhunter came next, “This is Manhunter. Jim Gordon is clear.”

“Vicki Vale is safe and sound. So am I, by the way.” Steph’s voice sounded almost bored.

Huntress’s voice had a teasing tone to it as she spoke: “Lucius Fox is alive. The two assassins are...more or less alive.”

“The Madison girl is alive.” Yup, that growly voice was none other than Man-bat.

Cassie’s voice was clear and full of awe as she said “Barbara Gordon is, well...she kind of saved herself.”

Finally, Damian spoke, the familiarity and derision in full force. “Really, grandfather? Ninja? I’m insulted.”

For the first time that night, Tim felt the fear he had been anticipating even as the rage and understanding manifested on Ra’s al Ghul’s face. 

“You...what have you done?”

Tim really couldn’t help the smirk this time.

“I realized you were playing with me, but this is me, refusing to play. Did you think I was going to run all around the city, desperately trying to save everyone all by myself? I’m not Batman. I have friends. Did you think that when I had access to your systems, I wouldn’t use it to find you? I memorized every shell company and facade the League of Assassins has. Did you think I wouldn’t look up League real estate holdings in Gotham? I’ve been checking them out since before I even got back to the city. I’ve had your assassins taken down. Now it’s your turn.”

Was it a bit monologue-y? Sure, but Tim felt like he deserved it. He deserved something at this point.

Ra’s al Ghul was not an angry man, that Tim knew for a fact. He was a scarily intelligent man who did not take losing well. So, with that in mind, Tim knew he was in for a world of pain even as Ra’s’ face became still and his eyes hardened.

“Very well,” he said in a voice so low it was a wonder he could be heard.

It was with a sudden sharp and clean motion that Ra’s tore his cloak off, and in that same movement, his sword was swinging towards Tim.

Tim was very grateful for his training at that moment, specifically his training with Lady Shiva, even as his arms shook under the weight of blocking Ra’s attack with his bo-staff. 

The shift from anger to a smirk did strike something in him, something he chose to ignore and address later. Much later, if he had the chance. 

Tim wasn’t sure if he had actually dropped his guard with that small distraction or if Ra’s really was just that fast even as the man’s boot connected with Tim’s face. He couldn’t help the “uhnn” that flew out of him, along with some blood. He caught himself on the floor, just barely, with a sharp grunt. His left shoulder smarted from where it had caught a shuriken earlier in the night. However, he didn’t have more than a moment before the tell-tale whistle in the air alerted him to the fact that Ra’s sword was moving again. Tim rolled in barely enough time for the sword to slice his cape instead of him.

From his side, he kicked out, foot connecting with Ra’s chest with a precision he didn’t feel very capable of. It was repaid with a very painful hit to the cheekbone by the hilt of the sword, causing more blood to leave his body through his mouth and nose.

Tim cataloged what had to be a fracture in his face now, even as he fell backward. As he fell, though, he made sure to throw his R-disks. Not a single one of them landed, though that didn’t surprise him. They weren’t a real attack, more a distraction to give him even a millisecond of breathing room.

He stood, leaning on his bo-staff, but not fast or far enough because this time, Ra’s’ swipe with his sword caught Tim across the chest. He couldn’t help the yell that injury tore from his lungs, even as he threw a punch where Ra’s’ head had been. That missed punch cost him, unfortunately, and before he knew it Ra’s was behind him and dislocating his shoulder. That cry of pain Tim definitely couldn’t keep in. He could retaliate thought, and with that brief moment of thought, he threw his head back. He knew the pain in his own head was worth it when he felt more than heard the crunch of Ra’s nose.

Tim stumbled forward, quickly turning around to face Ra’s. He gasped for air, heart racing.

“Is that all?” He said, chest filling with air both too fast and not fast enough, “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ra’s paused, his eyes narrowing again. Blood dripped down his nose and chin and watching the droplets fall to the floor filled Tim with a satisfaction he hadn’t known he was missing. 

“What are you doing, Timothy?” He asked after a beat.

Tim smirked, even as his left arm wrapped itself around his chest. 

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m giving Lucius Fox enough time to file paperwork. Two things happened today, Ra’s. The first is that I became an emancipated minor. The second is that as of right about now I’m also the controlling shareholder of Wayne Enterprises.”

He felt his wounds twinge, and he knew that standing half-bent over wasn’t a very triumphant position, but man did Tim feel a pride he hadn’t felt in a while. A clean, uncompromised, pride. 

Ra’s growled, a low “you…”.

Tim just continued.

“I’m in charge of Bruce Wayne’s “legacy” now. Not Hush. Bruce knew something was coming. He knew he wasn’t always going to be around. So he made a will. He had paperwork drawn up to transfer his shares in the company as well as his position as CEO to me if something should happen.”

Tim had to stop to shift, lean a little more on his bo-staff, take a deeper breath.

“And he gave Lucius full authority to make that happen if need be. And it goes without saying that Lucius saw a need. Your target from day one was Wayne Enterprises, not the people. You’re not a blunt instrument, Ra’s. You’d never attacked us like this before. SO why now? Because Hush made it so easy. He would have signed over everything to the League of Assassins with a simple threat. I’m sure he knows by now that he can’t. Even if you kill me now, I’ve made sure he won’t be able to transfer anything to you. You’ve lost, Ra’s.”

The room was still. Tim knew things were about to get even more ugly as Ra’s face transformed into a snarl.

“Well done,  _ Detective _ .”

Tim couldn’t have screamed even if he had wanted to, all the air forced out of him between Ra’s foot and the shattering glass at his back. 

Everything hurt, so bad, and the rush of falling did nothing to Tim’s worn out adrenal glands. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it even hurt to fall. But it didn’t hurt to think, so Tim just thought.  _ I did it. I saved the people he loved. I saved everything he worked so hard to build. No compromises. He won’t say anything, he never does. But I know. I know that Bruce will be proud of me. Not a bad day. _

He was pretty sure it was water leaking from his eyes, not blood, but the black creeping in on his vision stopped him from thinking anymore.

* * *

Waking up was normally an unpleasant experience for one Tim Drake-Wayne. This time was especially not pleasant, filled with both dull and sharp spikes of pain throughout his body. Everything was very bright, too bright, and the voices were too loud.

It took a moment for his vision to clear but when it did he calmed down, recognizing Alfred and Stephanie and Damian by sight before the sound of their individual voices registered. The bickering was as familiar as much as it hurt to hear. 

Then he remembered what he had last seen, and felt, (Ra’s, falling, so much pain, peace) and bolted upright. His ribs protested greatly at that, and Alfred’s warm-gloved-hand was a comfort on his shoulder. 

“Alfred,” he murmured, staring at the only real grandparent figure in his life.

“Hello, Master Timothy. I’m very pleased to see you again. Although you could have said “Good-bye”.”

“Tim,” Dick’s voice was calm and level, and Tim instantly turned to look at him.

“Welcome home.”

Tim wasn’t worried per se, but he couldn’t turn off the part of him that had planned everything so meticulously.

“Ra’s…?”

“Gone. We swept the place and got nothing. You want to tell me what that was all about?”

“It’s...a little complicated. And I’d mostly rather not, but I think we’re good for a while.”

“How’d you know? How did you know I’d be there to save you?”

Tim felt his heart stop. 

“You’re my brother, Dick, you’ll always be there for me.”  _ Except I don’t know how much I believe that _ , Tim thought to himself,  _ after all, I hadn’t expected to wake up again _ .

Tim couldn’t stop the next words from leaving his mouth, from explaining the truth about Bruce’s disappearance and the proof he now had. He couldn’t ignore the familiar sinking feeling in his gut when Alfred and Dick looked at each other before responding. He also couldn’t stop the sharp pain of realizing that 1) Steph was glaring and 2) her glare was directed at him.

“Steph? You’re, uh, glaring at me. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. Is there anything you maybe, just maybe, might have forgotten to mention to me? Something slip your mind as I was saving your life even after you yelled at me? A lot?”

Tim could not have been more confused, or so he thought. He was proved wrong by Damian’s grin and the newspaper being shoved into his hands.

“Congratulations, you dog,” his younger brother said.

The headline, “Engaged: Teen Wayne Heir Tim Drake to Wed Older Woman” and pictures, he and Tam next to each other, shocked Tim. He sat there, eyes wide, almost wishing he hadn’t woken up yet.

“How long was I out for?” He asked, not even minding the small crack in his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I unintentionally hopped on the Tim Drake whump-and-angst train this weekend and could not get off, no matter how hard I tried. So this happened. I'll probably continue it, but we'll see. Let me know your thoughts!


End file.
